Surrender
by artemis lecter
Summary: Sequel to Escape.  Draco attempts to tell Harry how he feels.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, unfortunately.

A/N: **Rated M for mature for explicit sexual content and language. Do not read if you are under the age of 17.** I really liked the last story, so here goes the sequel! Takes place two weeks after "Escape". The last one was mostly flashbacks, but this fic actually moves forward, which I liked. Enjoy, and review!

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"Oi! Watch where you're—Oh. Sorry, Malfoy." Blaise was looking at me in confusion, having just narrowly avoided being knocked to the ground because I wasn't watching where I was going. I shrugged past him.

"Sorry." I continued walking, ignoring Zabini's cries of "Draco! Wait!"

I had pretty much given up. Two solid weeks of trying to tell Harry how I felt, of completely and utterly failing every time I came within five feet of him—which, considering we'd shagged nine times in that two weeks, was often. Every time, I chickened out. Un-fucking-believable.

I made it to Potions without crashing into anyone else, luckily, and found my seat between Crabbe and Goyle without difficulty. I noticed Harry glancing over at me, and was surprised that he looked worried. Good. Nice that he cared that much.

I honestly had no idea what Slughorn was going on about. Nor did I care, really. For once, he didn't bother trying to get me to pay attention, which I appreciated. Wasn't such a bad guy after all.

The lesson went by slowly. Throughout it, I thought of more ways to attempt to talk to Harry. _By the way, Potter, just so you know, I fancy you. No, not "fancy". I, er… love you._

In each and every one of these fantasies, the imaginary Harry Potter bursts into a fit of laughter.

I don't know when I started caring so much the reactions of other people. But Harry wasn't just "other people". It was frustrating—more so because the thought that he might not want me that way scared the shit out of me.

The bell finally rang, and I got up out of my chair as quickly as possible, heading for the door. I tried not to look at Harry as I walked out, but I couldn't help but notice the confused expression on his face as he followed his friends out of the dungeon.

After Potions, I had a break, and thankfully, I had a ton of work to catch up on—which meant limited time to torture myself about Harry. Crabbe and Goyle came over and sat, but after ten minutes of me not saying anything despite their numerous attempts to start a half-witted conversation, they went to the other side of the room where a few other blokes were. I noticed Crabbe shake his head, glancing back at me. I knew they were wondering what was wrong with me—no need to be a Legilimens with those morons. I didn't care that they were curious as to what was bothering me. None of their fucking business anyway.

I flipped through the pages in my History of Magic book, grumbling about the stupidity of the subject. The damn book didn't cover enough for me to write a full two foot essay—I was going to have to go to the library to find more information. If I failed this essay, I'd have to take the class over again next year. Obviously not something I was keen on doing. Heaving a sigh, I made my way out of the common room, up from the dungeons, and toward the library.

I found the books I needed relatively quickly, and decided after a moment to stay here and read as opposed to going back to the common room. I was just beginning to become engrossed in one of the books when I heard a chair scrape across the floor right next to me. I look up irritatedly, opening my mouth to tell whoever it was to piss off, when I realized just who it was. I scowled.

Harry pulled out the chair next to me, sitting down almost silently. He glanced at the book I was reading, noting the half-completed essay in front of me.

"I can help you with that if you'd like. Hermione helped me write mine—I bet I could help you ace it." He spoke quietly, as he tended to do these days. He didn't like drawing attention to himself. I couldn't really say I blamed him.

"Thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "But I can actually do this myself."

He looked upset. I instantly berated myself. I looked at him, touching his cheek with the palm of my hand—fully realizing, as I did so, that it was a stupid move. He didn't feel the same as I did; why bother with these pointless displays of affection when they weren't returned?

"Sorry," I murmured. "Didn't mean to be so harsh."

He closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying my touch. Strange.

"You've been upset lately. Can I do anything to help?"

More strange. Why should he care if I was upset? I couldn't help but feel used—surely the only reason he cared was to make sure I'd be up to shagging him later. I growled slightly. He was absolutely infuriating.

"I'm fine," I snapped, pulling my hand away from him. I tried not to feel guilty at the surprised look on his face.

"Alright," he said softly, standing up. I watched him turn around and start walking away through my peripheral vision. I quickly glanced around—no one here.

I stood and grabbed his arm, hurling him back over to the table. I bent him over it, pressing my now-hard cock into his ass. I heard him gasp softly. I couldn't understand my actions—I only knew that I was angry, that the fact that he didn't love me had enraged me beyond reason. Today, it was just too much.

Reaching around him, I undid the button and pulled down the zipper on the trousers he wore under his robes. I heard his gasp again.

"Here?" he hissed at me. Despite the surprise, I could tell that the thought of me fucking him here, where anyone could walk in, turned him on. I pushed his trousers down around his ankles, bending him further so I had access to his ass. I heard him whimper when my fingers brushed his asshole. I chuckled.

"Is this what you want?" I asked him softly, wetting my first finger and pushing it inside him. I saw him nod his head vigorously. I smirked, adding another finger slowly. I heard him moan softly. That wasn't enough for me. I added another finger, stretching him, getting him ready for my cock. He gasped loudly, fingers clawing the table in front of him.

"Tell me what you want," I purred in his ear. I heard him whimper. I unzipped my own trousers, pulling them down as well.

"Fuck me, Draco," he begged softly, pushing his ass back on my probing fingers. I pulled them out, hearing him whine slightly at the loss. I slicked my cock with my saliva, pushing the head into his ass slowly. I heard him groan.

"More," he implored. "Please." I growled, pushing another two inches in.

"Little slut," I growled in his ear. I pushed again, burying myself to the hilt. I groaned. "So tight…"

He moaned, a low sound that I absolutely loved. He pushed his ass back, fucking himself on my cock. I chuckled again at his impatience.

"Gonna need you to be quiet, love," I whispered in his ear. I wished I could make him scream; he knew how much I loved it when he made noise for me. He nodded, though, biting his lip in an effort to remain silent. I pulled my cock most of the way out, then pushed forward, slamming it back in. I heard him squeak. I grinned, grabbing his hips roughly as I fucked him. He needed it rough, as I knew all too well.

He reached under his torso, finding his cock and stroking it.

"That's right, love," I panted. I wasn't going to be able to last much longer. "Cum for me."

He whimpered softly, digging his nails into the wood of the table as I savagely fucked his ass. "Draco—"I heard him gasp.

"Fuck, Harry." I started babbling incoherently. "So tight—fucking love this—"I dug my fingertips into his hips, bruising him.

"Draco… gonna cum…" he panted.

"Fuck, Harry, I love you—FUCK," I growled. I bit into his shoulder, sending both of us over the edge. I heard him cry out, loving the pain that I infused into his pleasure.

We lay there for a moment, and I started coming back to my senses. I realized what I said.

Fuck. Not fucking good.

I stood, pulling out of Harry as quickly as I could without hurting him. I zipped up my jeans and fixed my hair. Straightening my robes out, I turned and walked away.

"Draco."

I didn't turn around.

I sighed, staring at the ceiling of the dormitory I shared with Crabbe and Goyle. I had raced back to the dungeons as quickly as I could, not turning back when Harry yelled my name again.

What an idiot I'd been.

How could I have lost control like that? I knew Harry didn't feel the same way. I knew that with every cell in my body—how many times had I tried to tell him how I felt? I knew his feelings weren't mutual. So why did I have to open my fat mouth and say something so stupid?

The worst part was how I felt. Knowing that Harry knew how deep my obsession was only made things worse—because now he would never be with me again. I should have just kept my mouth shut, no matter how much it hurt for Harry not to love me back. Because at least he'd still be around.

I managed to completely avoid seeing him the following day. I was sure that wouldn't last past our next Potions class together, however. Hard to escape someone's notice in a class of only about a dozen students.

Crabbe and Goyle, once again, badgered me about why I was so upset—apparently, I was in such a foul mood I couldn't even fool them. It was only when I shoved my wand under their noses and threatened to curse their balls off that they finally backed off. I announced that I was going to bed.

Of course, once I got up there, I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw raven-black hair and piercing green eyes. I missed him.

The next morning, I got up before everyone else and made my way down to the Great Hall. I scowled at practically everything, when I bothered to glance up from the floor. I wasn't paying much attention to where my feet were taking me—which meant I was very much caught by surprise when a hand reached out and grabbed my upper arm, hauling me off in the opposite direction of the way I had been going.

I tried to pull my wand out, but another hand wrapped around my wrist, preventing movement. The hands were surprisingly strong.

I was pulled around a corner and slammed against the wall, my head cracking against the stone behind me. I looked up, furious. Who the fuck dared to touch me in such a manner? My breath caught in my throat, however, when I saw who my attacker was. A shiver ran down my spine as I looked into the striking green eyes.

Harry looked livid. I tried to put my mask on my face, hiding the confusion and, frankly, adoration I was feeling. Harry's hand moved from my wrist to grip the top of my other arm, pinning me to the wall. Despite myself, I could feel my loins stirring as my brain realized the position I was in. This was turning me on.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Harry asked coldly. I was surprised at the anger in his voice.

"I haven't been," I lied. He saw right through it.

"You never go a day without seeing me. I want to know why you're trying to avoid me."

I sighed. He was so pushy. I tossed around in my head various lies to tell him—I had been busy with schoolwork, I had been ill, I was hanging out with friends. I finally settled on the truth. Things couldn't get much worse anyway.

"I didn't want to see you. After what happened yesterday." The look on his face told me he knew I wasn't just referring to shagging him publically in the library yesterday.

He was quiet for a moment. I could practically see his brain trying to process an answer. He looked back up at me, and I was again surprised by the innocence, the fear, in his eyes. I had seen fear enough to know it well. But why should he be afraid?

"Did you mean it?" he asked quietly. My brow furrowed.

"Mean what?" He sighed, rolling his eyes slightly.

"When you said you loved me. Did you mean it, or did you just say it because you happened to be shagging me senseless at that time?" He said this with a monotone in his voice. I knew him well enough to know that he was trying to sound tough, trying to pretend not to care. I was still confused.

"Does it matter?" I asked him, somewhat harshly.

He glared at me. "Yes."

I pondered that for a moment. "Why?" I looked in his eyes, as though willing myself to be able to know what he was really thinking. He bit his lower lip—an action I found rather endearing—and looked down at the floor.

"Because I'm in love with you," he whispered.

My upper lip curled in disgust. I struggled against the arms that were still holding me against the wall, to no avail. His hands were too strong for me. I settled for glaring at him.

"How dare you lie to me like that? Even I know better than to joke about something so serious. Now get off me." I wasn't sure if I was angrier with him, for the cruel lie, or with myself, for making myself so vulnerable. I tried to break myself free. He pushed me against the wall even harder, probably bruising my arms now. He was practically nose-to-nose with me now.

"You weren't lying?" he demanded. I sighed, fighting back the urge to cry. That wouldn't look very good.

"NO, Potter, I wasn't lying. You can go tell your stupid little friends how Draco Malfoy fell in love with you and how stupid I am, I don't care, now get off—'

My rant was cut off as he kissed me fiercely.

He pulled back, a peculiar look on his face. He looked… triumphant. What the hell?

He leaned in to kiss me again; I pulled my face away from him, regretting it when I saw the hurt look on his face.

"I'm confused," I admitted.

He laughed. "What's so confusing?"

"… You meant it? You love me?" I was utterly baffled. How was this possible?

He rolled his eyes. "I said so, didn't I?"

"But…" I was still lost. "I thought… I kinda thought you were just using me."

He looked guilty then. "At first… I was. I needed someone who didn't look at me as 'The Boy Who Lived'. I was just 'Potter' to you. You took my mind off everything." It was exactly as I had thought, then. I was spot on.

"But then… I got to know you. You're clever, and you're fucking hilarious, and you're absolutely gorgeous…" his eyes ran appreciatively down my body. "But I was sure you weren't in love with me. Until yesterday."

I was speechless. He loved me. Harry Potter was in love with me.

"Draco? Say something. Please."

I looked back at him. I leaned forward, and kissed him. Nothing like the aggressive kisses we'd shared before; this was sweet and gentle.

"I love you," I murmured against his lips. I felt him smile.

"Love you too, Draco."

A month later, we were still getting used to being in a relationship. He told his friends about a week after our conversation in the hall. Weasley tried to strangle me, until Harry pulled him off me. Granger seemed to be alright about it; I suspect she was just happy to see Harry happy again.

My own friends, if you could call them that, still hadn't stopped hazing me about it. I didn't care. It meant that I spent a lot more time with Harry's little entourage, but then, that meant I saw Harry more too.

Harry eventually told me what he had been seeing Dumbledore for. The Horcruxes were a scary business. But there was no way harry was going anywhere without me. Dumbledore was taking measures to hide my mother and myself from the Dark Lord. We had a lot to worry about next year.

For now, Harry and I are enjoying spending time with each other.

I sat in my usual spot down by the lake, waiting for him to show up. We always came down here after classes let out. He didn't keep me waiting too long—I knew it was him without turning around. He set his bag down and sat next to me, lying down so his head was resting in my lap. I smiled, running my fingers through his hair. He sighed, a happy, content sound.

"Hi there, love," I whispered. I was finally happy. And neither Harry nor I needed an escape anymore. We had each other.

END.


End file.
